


Unscientific

by Icka M Chif (mischif)



Category: Mr. Peabody & Sherman (2014), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Blanket Permission, Crossover, Cuddling & Snuggling, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Jackrabbit Week, Platonic Cuddling, Púca | Pooka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischif/pseuds/Icka%20M%20Chif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began one November evening with a blurry young man sitting on the edge of the Peabody Industries skyscraper. </p><p>Although to be more precise, it most likely began several months before that, when Sherman first started attending school and receiving an education from other people. Namely, his peer group, who taught him such unscientifically proven things as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.</p><p>(Peabody is a Pooka)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unscientific

**Author's Note:**

> So because the idea wouldn't let us go, I'm actually filling my own prompt on the [RotG Kinkmeme](http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/3036.html?thread=6762716#cmt6762716), and fulfilling today's [prompt for June JackRabbit Week, 'Family'](http://jackrabbitweek.tumblr.com/post/89126228051/jun-18-family-the-discovery-of-memories). 
> 
> Pretty much un-beta'd, any mistakes are my own, please point them out so I can fix 'em. Thanks!

* * *

It began one November evening with a blurry young man sitting on the edge of the Peabody Industries skyscraper. 

Although to be more precise, it most likely began several months before that, when Sherman first started attending school and receiving an education from other people. Namely, his peer group, who taught him such unscientifically proven things as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. 

But for Mr. Peabody, it began with the boy sitting with his feet hanging several stories above the ground, head tilted up to stare at the dim glow of the moon high above. The strangest thing was not his trespassing, or the lack of altophobia, but the fact that it almost seemed as if he could see the light through the boy, which couldn't be right. Mr. Peabody made a mental note to move decreasing the light pollution generated by large cities, thereby making it easier to observe the nighttime sky, higher on his priority list. 

An intruder to his penthouse, and a possible jumper, on the other hand, was definitely high on his immediate priorities. Especially in the middle of wintertime, with the hazardous combination of fierce winds and slippery ice.

"You there, young man." He called, raising his voice from the balcony to be heard over the water of the fountain that made up a large portion of the garden. "I insist that you cease what you are doing at once and come over here to explain yourself." 

The pale haired youth did a double take at Mr. Peabody before pointing to himself with a comically surprised expression. "Yes, you." Mr. Peabody snapped impatiently. "Remove yourself immediately from the building's edge and tell me how you got up here without triggering my security system." 

He got a shrug in return, the young man picking up what appeared to be a strangely large walking stick from next to him and rolling to his feet like an acrobat, walking towards the balcony. The appearance of being able to see the light through him continued, the edges blurry, indistinct. 

He lifted his glasses to look at boy again. The human was a little more solid to his eye without the layer of glass, but he was still strangely insubstantial. 

And then rather than taking the stairs to the main living level, the lad stepped onto the water that made up most of the penthouse garden. A path of ice forming under his feet and keeping him from falling into the water. 

"Oh, my." Mr. Peabody drawled, rubbing his eyes and verifying that he was in fact not seeing things. No, no he wasn’t. He supposed that made the silver hair natural and not the product of an extreme amount of bleach. 

"Hi?" The young man, for he was indeed not a child and somewhere in teenage years, looked up at him with hesitant expression on his face. "You can see me-?" 

"Of course I can." Mr. Peabody frowned. That should have been completely obvious from the way he had addressed the youth. "What is your name?" 

"Jack Frost." The teen said with a shrug of his shoulders ."And you are-?" 

"Mr. Peabody." He hesitated for a moment as Jack Frost seemed to solidify to his gaze, snapping as solid and opaque as any other person. He seemed human, aside from the colouration, and the frost patterns that covered his clothing. Unable to resist, he added. " _Ice_ to meet you." 

The grin he got in return was blinding and he basked in the warm joyful glow of someone understanding one of his puns without the need for him to explain it. “You’re Sherman’s dad?” Jack Frost asked, resting his staff, an antiquated shepherd's crook from the looks of it, against his shoulder in a casual gesture. 

“Yes…” Mr. Peabody drawled, his good humour fading to be replaced by wary suscipition. “How do you know my son’s name?” Strange ice abilities or not, Mr. Peabody was not about to allow this young man do anything nefarious around his son.

“It was mentioned during the snowball fight at lunch.” Jack Frost motioned towards Sherman’s room under the balcony, with a wide happy grin. “It was the first time Sherman could see me, so as a thanks for believing in me, I dropped by to decorate his window for when he wakes up in the morning.”

“And you stopped to take in the view.” Mr. Peabody snarked, not trusting a word. Although he had the odd feeling that if he checked Sherman’s window right now, it’d be covered in swirling patterns of ice.

“It’s a nice view.” Jack Frost nodded. A blast of cold wind hit Mr. Peabody’s face and he braced himself against it, squinting to protect his eyes. When he could see again, Jack Frost was perched on the balcony railing like a bird, peering down at him with a curious expression. "But the question is... How can you see me? You didn't even know my name." 

"Why wouldn't I be able to see you?" Mr. Peabody demanded. "You're here just as plain as the nose on my face!" 

"Yeah, but not to most people." Jack Frost said, hopping from the balcony and crouching down in front of him. Mr. Peabody could feel the ambient temperature drop by several degrees as Jack leaned closer and poked Mr. Peabody in the stomach. The touch was cold, even through his fur. 

“Stop that!” Mr. Peabody snapped, swatting the offending hand away. He was not some curiosity to be petted and poked at. Jack Frost’s skin was even colder to the touch, like touching snow directly. 

He froze when Jack Frost leaned forward, pressing his face to the top of Mr. Peabody's head and taking a deep breath, sniffing him. This had the side effect of pressing his chest to Mr. Peabody’s face, making it impossible not to scent the young man as well. 

Snow and ice mostly, a bit of tree and leaves. The faint smell of christmas cookies, no doubt crumbs stuck to his shirt. Springtime. Grass. And something that was foreign yet somehow completely familiar clinging to the material. That smelled like much Mr. Peabody himself, as similar as fellow canines smelled dissimilar. 

Mr. Peabody pressed close, trying to pin down the elusive scent, his tail slowly wagging. Someone Jack Frost had been around… 

Jack Frost leaned back, breaking the connection and Mr. Peabody came back to himself. 

“You don’t smell human.” Mr. Peabody said, adjusting his glasses. True, he did not use his nose as much as a normal dog would, but he certainly knew a human when he smelled one. 

“You smell like Bunny.” He said, face curled up in curiosity and confusion, but no disgust.

“I would certainly hope I do not smell like a lagomorph.” Mr. Peabody snapped, offended. He was a _canine_ , thank you very much. _Canis Lupus Sapiens_ , to be precise. 

“No, I mean.” Jack Frost ducked his head, pressing his nose against Mr. Peabody’s throat, head bumping Mr. Peabody’s chin as he sniffed, before pulling away again. “You don’t smell like a normal dog.”

“I…” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with teeth that close to his neck, even blunt human ones. Although the action had seemed more playful than anything else. “What do I smell like?” 

Jack Frost shrugged. “Like Bunny.” He said, as if he didn’t have a better way to explain it. 

“Illuminating.” Mr. Peabody drawled in a dismissive tone. That was certainly unhelpful. A rabbit could not smell like a dog. To his surprise, it made Jack Frost grin like Mr. Peabody had just said the funniest thing. 

“Okay, you have GOT to meet him.” Jack Frost jumped backwards, landing in a crouch on the top of the railing, his toes gripping the edge like a monkey. “Tomorrow Evening! We’ll meet you here around sunset!!” 

With a grin and a cheerful wave, Jack Frost threw himself backwards off the balcony. Mr. Peabody felt his heart leap into his throat for a moment, taking a worried step forward, only to relax slightly as the wind seemed to grab the teenager and toss him high up into the night sky, his laughter ringing out through the air. 

Mr. Peabody watched as Jack Frost was carried away like a spinning snowflake on the breeze, his mind working frantically in several directions at once. 

Jack Frost certainly didn’t seem threatening, and he was certainly curious to know more about him and this 'Bunny' character, but the causal knowledge about his son rubbed his fur the wrong way. 

Defensive measures possibly might not be amiss.

+++

Sherman yawned as he plodded into the kitchen, stumbling a few times before climbing up into a chair and resting his head on the table. His shirt was on inside out and backwards, glasses eschew, he was missing a sock, and Mr. Peabody was fairly certain Sherman’s hair had not seen a comb this morning. 

“Breakfast, Sherman.” Mr. Peabody said, trying to hide his amusement. Sherman tended to take a few minutes in the morning for his brain to ‘boot up’, as his son had so eloquently put it once. 

That was unless Sherman was excited about something they were doing that morning, in that case he woke up a hyper ball of activity. Getting ready for school usually prompted the former, not the later. 

Sherman yawned again as he blearily lifted his head, allowing room for English-style breakfast to be set on the table. Eggs, beans, toast, bacon, fried tomatoes, and mushrooms. Sherman stared at it for a moment, then picked up his fork and began shovelling the eggs into his mouth, chewing on automatic. Like Mr. Peabody, Sherman tended to prefer meat over vegetables, although Mr. Peabody was sure they got a nutritional balance. 

Although eggs were a delightful favourite for both of them. 

Mr. Peabody smiled to himself as he poured glasses of orange juice, trying not to tip his hand just yet. Before Sherman’s brain engaged completely was the perfect time to make inquiries. While he had raised his son to be truthful, aside from secrets like the WABAC, Sherman had the tendency to obfuscate a bit, sounding out what information he thought Mr. Peabody wanted to hear. 

“Do you know someone named ‘Jack Frost’?” Mr. Peabody asked, setting the juice in front of Sherman, then hopping up on his chair to eat his own breakfast. He bit into his bacon, enjoying the crispness of the edges, and the slight chewy texture in the middle. Perfection. 

“Mm?” Sherman blearily looked at him, jaw slack for a moment before yawning. “Yeah. Met him for the first time yesterday. He’s fun!” He said, a sleepy grin spreading across his face, eyelids drooping as he almost fell asleep again. He caught himself and continued eating.

“And he didn’t seem… Odd to you at all?” Mr. Peabody drawled, scooping up some of his beans on to the toast and devouring it. 

“Not… Really?” Sherman slowly sounded out. “I mean, he’s not human. I think he’s some sort of magic Winter Elemental. The other kids said he’s a Guardian though, protects us from the Boogieman. And he makes sure we don’t go out in the street when we’re playing in the snow.”

“A Guardian?” That might explain the shepherd's crook. “Guardian of what?”

“Childhood.” Sherman shrugged one shoulder, attempting to shovel a tomato in his mouth and missing on his attempt, poking his cheek. He got it on his second attempting, chewing and swallowing. “Like the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, and the Sandman. Adults can’t see them because they don’t believe in them. But kids can.” 

Interesting. Also explained Jack Frost’s surprise at Mr. Peabody being able to see him. “And you can see him?” 

“Once the other kids told me about him, sure.” Sherman grinned. It faded to a thoughtful expression, Sherman’s brain finally coming online as he pondered. “Although I kinda saw him before Carl told me his name, like a bit of a blur… I thought he was a smudge on my glasses at first.” 

“Hm.” So finding Jack Frost transparent not an isolated incident. Although how both he and Sherman had been able to see the winter spirit was a mystery. “Thank you, Sherman.” 

Sherman nodded, shoving his bacon into his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing. “How’d you hear about Jack Frost, Mr. Peabody? I thought only kids knew about him.” 

“I’ll tell you after school.” Mr. Peabody assured him. They had an afternoon appointment with Jack Frost, after all. “Speaking of which…” He said, glancing pointedly at the half-eaten breakfast still in front of Sherman.

“Oh! Right!” With a burst of energy, Sherman practically inhaled his breakfast, pulled off his shirt and put it on right side out and forwards. He grabbed the missing sock that was stuck to the shirt, kicking off his sockless shoe and putting the sock on before hopping down and re-putting on his shoe. 

Without prompting, Sherman grabbed his breakfast dishes and took them to the sink, quickly rinsing them off and putting them in the dishwasher, something Mr. Peabody watched with a small sense of pride. “Hair, Sherman.” He reminded his son as Sherman headed out of the kitchen.

“Uh? Oh!” Sherman patted the mess that was his hair. “Right. Can’t forget my bag either.”

“Be ready to go in 10 minutes.” Mr. Peabody nodded. “We’ll be coming straight home after school.” Sherman sketched him a playful salute as he trotted towards the elevator and his room. 

Mr. Peabody allowed his tail to wag a few times as he watched his son disappear, reaffirming the resolve in his heart. 

Sherman tended to have fine instincts, when he listened to them, knowing who and he could not trust. Once again, Jack Frost didn’t seem to be anyone that required concern, but the unexpected had a habit of appearing around Sherman. 

And, if he were to honest with himself, Mr. Peabody was not comfortable with the concept of ‘magic’. Science, science he could understand, break it down to knowledgeable pieces, construct and destruct, make logic and sense out of. 

Magic was an unknown element. Which made it trickier to defend against. 

Fortunately, Mr. Peabody did so love a challenge.

+++

To stop someone whose abilities involved ice, Peabody installed a several flame throwers around the perimeter of the penthouse, angled so as to not shoot the building and catch it on fire. It would work for someone who could fly. 

For the physical borders of the house, he already had laser grids installed. Corporate espionage could take place in many unexpected ways, and his home did seem rather unprotected, with its multiple levels and open floor plan. Unassuming and unexpected, much like Mr. Peabody himself. 

The WABAC also created a type of spatial force field to protect the machine while travelling through time, and he debated placing a similar one around the penthouse, then tabled that idea for later. It took up an enormous amount of energy to do so, and there were only so many hours in a day. 

And he was CEO of a highly successful company, something that demanded his attention as well. His people were skilled and well trained, but there were certain things that only he could handle. 

Thankfully Jack Frost did not come up in conversation Sherman did his homework and ate dinner, which Mr. Peabody took to mean the winter spirit had not shown up today. Or after this morning's conversation, Sherman was refraining from mentioning him. 

“Something wrong?” Sherman asked as they cleaned up from dinner and Mr. Peabody could have kicked himself. Naive his son thankfully still was, but he was also an empathic child, sensitive to people’s moods, Mr. Peabody’s especially. 

“We may be having some company over shortly.” He said, dredging a smile. 

“The Petersons?” Sherman ventured hopefully. Once the debacle with the WABAC was settled, Mr. Peabody had invited the Petersons over a few more times, enjoying their simple company. And Sherman always enjoyed spending time with Penny, the two of them growing into close friends. 

“Not quite.” Mr. Peabody said, closing the dishwasher and drying his hands. Sherman followed him as he walked to the balcony doors where the sun was setting in a glorious blaze of orange and pinks. He opened the balcony doors and stepped outside, a burst of frigid air greeted them. Sherman gave a small noise of surprise as they both shielded their eyes from the abrupt cold. 

"Hey there, Papadog!" Jack Frost grinned, landing on the balcony railing, looking as if he was up to some kind of mischief. “Yo, Sherman!” 

“Jack Frost!” Sherman bounced, and Mr. Peabody shifted to keep his son behind him, and not playing with the elemental just yet. “Hi!”

"That's _Peabody_." He snapped. “ **Mister** … Pea…” He trailed off as an enormous grey rabbit landed on the railing, looming behind Jack Frost. “Bunny…?”

“ **JACK!** ” The rabbit bellowed, standing up on his hindlegs, taller than most humans, a dangerous look in his eyes. Mr. Peabody noted that by the accoutrements the rabbit was wearing, he seemed to be some kind of warrior.

Jack Frost tilted his head back, his grin stretching. “Heeeeey, Bunny~” He sang. 

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Bunny’ me, Frostbite.” The rabbit, Bunny, growled with a clearly Australian accent, pointing a claw tipped finger in Jack’s direction. “I’ve been chasin’ after ya all day and-” 

Bunny trailed off as Sherman gave a small gasp of excitement. “Oh, _wow_!” Sherman bounced. “The Easter Bunny!” 

“Yup.” Jack Frost smirked as Bunny stared at them, frozen like a statue. “Guys, meet E. Aster Bunnymund, the Easter Bunny. Bunny, meet Mr. Peabody, and his son Sherman. Aka, that scent I picked up that you’ve been chasing me all day over.” 

Mr. Peabody felt his nose twitch, trying to pick up the scent of the large lagomorph, and he could see Bunny doing the same. Jack Frost rolled his eyes and waved a finger in the air in a circle, a small whirlwind forming on the balcony, making them both up and downwind from each other. 

The familiar scent that he’d picked up on Jack Frost last night was Bunny in front of him. He stepped closer. “You smell similar to me-?” He sounded out, confused to how this could be. 

Bunny hopped down from the rail, soundlessly landing in a crouch a few feet away, his nose still twitching. Mr. Peabody stared into vibrant green eyes that were as familiar as his own, his pulse picking up in anticipation. Someone like him. He never thought he’d see the day. 

“You’re a pup!” Bunny breathed, voice full of awe. 

“Beg pardon?” He was fully mature adult, thank you very much-

He yelped a bit as he was suddenly picked up and _snuggled_ , his face pressed against the fur of Bunny’s neck. He opened his mouth to complain, then realised that he could get a better scent here and snuffled closer. Bunny vibrated against him, a low purr and he felt himself go boneless, feeling safe and secure in a way he’d never felt before. 

“And you’ve got a tiny kit!” Bunny added, and Mr. Peabody was shifted as Sherman was picked up and likewise cuddled. Sherman giggled as he wrapped his arms around Bunny’s neck, pressing his face against the Easter Bunny’s throat, much the same way Mr. Peabody had. 

For once, Mr. Peabody had no idea what to say. His brain was overflowing with questions and theories. He’d always assumed if he found another like himself they’d be canine. And smaller, more his size. 

The amount of contact became somewhat claustrophobic and he cleared his throat, pushing slightly at Bunny’s shoulder. “As touching as this all is, I am not a physically demonstrative type of person.” 

Much to his relief, Bunny reluctantly eased his grip, setting Mr. Peabody down with an amount of care that seemed slightly excessive. Sherman made an unhappy whine in the back of his throat, glancing at Mr. Peabody with a pleading expression. 

“Yes, Sherman. You may continue to snuggle with the Easter Bunny for as long as you’re both comfortable with it.” A sentence he’d never predicted he would ever utter. Parenthood was such a strange thing. 

Both Bunny and Sherman made happy noises, renewing their cuddling. Mr. Peabody almost wanted to join back in, but refrained himself. He was an adult after all. 

Jack Frost made a quiet huffing noise. “I’m gonna take that as my cue to go.” He said, sounding fond. “I’ve got some work to catch up on, since _someone_ wouldn’t wait for answers and ended up chasing me around the globe all day.” 

“Not apologisin’.” Bunny grumbled, voice muffled by Sherman’s hair, prompting a laugh from Jack. Bunny lifted his head to glance at Jack and held his arm out in offer. “Thanks, Frostbite.” 

Jack Frost jumped off the railing, hugging Bunny around the chest, barely avoiding pinning Sherman. The winter elemental pressed his face against the furry neck, head bumping Bunny’s chin. It was the same action he had done to Mr. Peabody to scent him, and one that was obviously familiar enough to be a reflex. 

Bit odd, from someone who appeared to be human. 

“Welcome, ‘Roo.” Jack Frost said, pulling back with a fond crooked smile. “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

Bunny nodded, releasing Jack. Sherman waved. “Later, Jack!” 

“Later, kiddo.” Jack grinned, bouncing backwards, on to the railing. “Oh, Peabunny. Don’t mind the ‘pup’ comments, I’m over 300 years old and he _still_ acts like I’m a kid.” 

“That’s cause ya are!” Bunny playfully growled, shaking a fist at the winter elemental. Jack laughed and launched himself into the air with a cheerful salute, quickly vanishing into the sky. 

Leaving Mr. Peabody with his son, the Easter Bunny, and a barrel full of questions. 

It took him a moment to remember his manners. “Please.” Mr. Peabody said, motioning inside. “Do come in.” 

“Thank you.” Bunny flipped Sherman upside down over his shoulder, making Sherman squeal and laugh as Bunny stood up, following Mr. Peabody in. 

It was a sound Mr. Peabody didn’t hear nearly enough, and he allowed a small smile to slip out. “Can I get you anything to drink?” He offered. “Coffee? Tea? Juice? Water?” 

“Naw, I’m… I’m good.” There was a sort of struck dumb disbelieving look on his face, like Bunny couldn't believe his favourable fortune. 

“We have questions.” Sherman pipped up, using the leather bandolier across Bunny’s torso for leverage to turn himself around and drape over Bunny’s shoulder again, this time facing forward. “Lots and lots of questions. Where did you come from? Where do you live? Where do you get the eggs you paint?” 

“Another galaxy, near the centre of the earth’s core, and I grow ‘em.” Bunny drawled, sounding amused, as he reached up and booped Sherman on the nose with a finger. Sherman went crosseyed for a moment, before adjusting his glasses. 

“Another _galaxy_?!” Sherman exclaimed. “That… That’s _pretty fantastic_!” 

Pretty fanciful, certainly. “Perhaps you should explain, starting from the beginning.” Mr. Peabody instructed, leading them to the living room, and motioned for Bunny to make himself comfortable. 

Which he did. By crouching down on the floor. 

Mr. Peabody hesitated over that, then shrugged. It had taken him years before he could sit comfortably in backed chairs without squashing his tail, perhaps it was something Bunny had never learned. 

“So the beginnin’, starts a long time ago. Millions of years, by your reckoning.” Bunny said, pulling a paintbrush from a bracer, and pulling an egg out from the pack on his back. He tapped the brush to one of the jewels on his bracer, and began to paint the egg a dark blue. 

“In a Golden Age-” He touched the brush to a yellow jewel on his bracer, the paint turning a shimmering gold, which he then used to paint constellations on the egg he was holding. “-When travel between Planets and Stars was common with the use of Airships that would sail the Sea of Stars.” 

Bunny painted as he talked, illustrating his story on the eggs, which grew feet and wandered around once he was done painting on them. After a half dozen, he started tapping his toes against the ground, creating a small hole in the floor that a clean white egg would hop out of, ready to be painted. 

He talked of groups of planets and stars, of constellations led by benevolent families that ruled with fairness and imagination. And of evil that that threatened the peace in the form of Dream Pirates, Fearlings, and Nightmare Men.

Of a good man, a soldier by the name of Kozmotis Pitchiner, who rounded the evils up and stood guard outside their prison, intending to keep them trapped forever. Of the shadows that tricked the man, by making them think his daughter was in danger, and devouring him, infecting him with their darkness. 

Turning him into Pitch Black, the Nightmare King. Who destroyed the Golden Age, scuttling airships, plundering planets, and extinguished stars. Turning all the dreams and wishes into nightmares. 

How Pitch Black craved most of all was the dreams of innocent children. 

The Brotherhood of the Pooka banded together to protect the First Light of the Universe, which could be used as a weapon against Pitch. How they’d confronted Pitch, and nearly defeated him, at the cost of their entire race, save for Bunny himself. 

How Bunny had been charged with protecting the First Light, fleeing to a remote part of universe. Where he found a little lovely egg shaped planet circling around a warm sun, and kicked and kicked until he’d made it round and stable, forming what was now Australia out of the extra dirt. 

And then he’d slept for millions of years. He’d wake up occasionally, use the light make things happier on the planet. Trees and flowers, Springtime and chocolates. Humans came around, and sometimes he’d talk with a few, then go back to sleep. 

Then Pitch Black returned, and heroes rose up to meet him again under the urging of the Man in the Moon. The former Bandit King turned Toymaker, Nicholas St. North. The last Sister of Flight, Queen Toothiana of Punjam Hy Loo. A fallen Wishing Star, Sanderson Mansnoozie. And Bunny himself. 

They’d come together as the Guardians of Childhood, fighting Pitch for centuries, trying to protect the children he targeted, and figure out a way to seal him up again. As part of the pact that made the others immortal, they were only visible to those who believed in them, knew their names. 

How the last great confrontation a few years ago, they had gained the Guardian of Fun, Jack Frost. 

By the time he got to Jack Frost, Sherman was yawning, having slid of of Bunny’s shoulder, onto his lap, staying upright by virtue of leaning against Bunny’s chest. From the fond look on Bunny’s face, Mr. Peabody figured he didn’t mind having a child falling asleep on him. Literally. 

Sherman had paint all over his hands, a smudge of green on one cheek from handling the eggs. “Why don’t you take your shower, Sherman?” Mr. Peabody instructed quietly. 

Sherman nodded and sat upright, giving a stretch before sliding off of Bunny. “I’ll be right back.” He said eagerly, giving Bunny a questioning look. Mr. Peabody squashed the illogical irritation at how comfortable Sherman and Bunny were around each other, something that Mr. Peabody often felt like he struggled with.

“I’ll be here.” Bunny promised with a small grin. Sherman nodded, bouncing a few times with a bright grin before running off. “Don’t forget ta wash behind the ears!” Bunny shouted after. 

Mr. Peabody raised an eyebrow at that, and Bunny scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed shrug. “Habit. Had sprogs of me own, yonks ago.” 

“Ah.” Mr. Peabody nodded. That made sense, why the Pooka was so comfortable with a small child draped over him. 

Children that were long dead now, if Bunny’s fantastical tale was true. 

“My tale isn’t quite as remarkable as your own.” Mr. Peabody said with a touch of self-deprecation. 

“I’d still be pleased ta hear it.” Bunny said, nothing but honesty in his expression and tone. It made Mr. Peabody falter, showing off for an audience was something he’d mastered to an art form, putting people at ease, making jokes, impressing them, making them forget that he was for all intents and purposes, a dog. 

He didn’t need to do that here, and he wasn’t sure how to handle the aberration. 

So he began at the beginning, telling it plainly, without his usual jokes. His first memories being at a Dog Adoption Centre, knowing he was different, and not just because of his high intellect. Devoting his life to humanity, to science, athletics, and technological discoveries,. Trying to make the world a better place. 

Becoming a business mogul, an inventor, a scientist, a Nobel laureate, a gourmand, and two-time Olympic medalist. 

How all this seemed to pale in contrast with his son. Holding Sherman in his arms for the first time, how it felt like time stopped and restarted again, his world forever changed.

There was a warmth in Bunny’s green eyes that said he understood exactly what Mr. Peabody’s was talking about, and it brought Mr. Peabody a sense of comfort. It was not something he had been able to voice outloud before, how much his son meant to him. 

Not only because it was something that did not come easily for him to talk about, but because too many looked at their differences, and dismissed what did not fit their worldview. Easy acceptance was not something he was used to. 

Sherman came running back, hair sticking up like a rooster’s comb despite being soaked, leaving damp footprints behind that fade quickly in the night air. The eggs scattered in Sherman’s wake, to keep from being trampled. 

“You’re still here!” Sherman said breathlessly, launching himself at Bunny. Mr. Peabody opened his mouth to scold Sherman, he raised Sherman better than to throw himself at people, but Bunny just laughed and plucked him out of the air for a cuddle with a happy purr. 

He bit his tongue. Perhaps some exceptions were acceptable, as long as Bunny didn’t mind. Mr. Peabody had spent so long learning to rein in his instincts in exchange for intellect pursuits that it was almost a little jarring to see things he trained himself out of doing being performed so naturally. 

And Sherman certainly seemed to crave the contact. 

Bunny paused, nose wiggling for a moment with an almost surprised expression before pressing against the back of Sherman’s neck, sniffing him. Sherman laughed, pressing his face against Bunny’s throat again with a happy sigh, going boneless. 

“Ya brush yer teeth?” Bunny inquired. “I can smell it if you haven’t.”

“I did.” Sherman protested, letting out a small yawn and shifting so he could look at Mr. Peabody. “Are you going to tell him about the WABAC?” 

Bunny arched an eyebrow at Mr. Peabody. “WABAC?” 

“‘Wavelength Acceleration Bidirectional Asynchronous Controller’.” Mr. Peabody explained, pushing his glasses up higher on his face. “Colloquially referred to as ‘The Wayback Machine'. My greatest invention. It’s a Time Machine that I use to teach Sherman about the past.” 

“S’awesome.” Sherman sleepily slurred as Bunny started making a purring noise. “We go on all sorts of adventures, meet all kinds of people and learn stuff.” 

“That _is_ awesome.” Bunny said quietly with some humour, rubbing Sherman’s shoulder blades. “However, right now I think it’s bedtime for little cubs.”

“M’not that little.” Sherman protested. The rumble of Bunny’s purr increased and Mr. Peabody watched with some amusement as Sherman’s eyes fluttered, resisting sleep. 

That was a handy trick. Certainly would have been useful when Sherman had been a toddler and teething. 

“However, it _is_ past your bedtime.” Mr. Peabody said, glancing at the clock. Not by much, but late enough on a school night. Sherman let out a soft whine of protest, and Bunny chuckled, before sending Mr. Peabody a questioning look.

Mr. Peabody huffed and slid out of the chair. “If you’d be so kind as to carry him.” He said drolly, and Bunny nodded, easily standing up out of his crouched position, despite the fact he’d been like that for hours. 

That was one thing he certainly missed about Sherman growing bigger, he was too large for Mr. Peabody to carry around anymore. 

In a few all too short years, Sherman would grow large enough to comfortably carry Mr. Peabody around, in much the same fashion Bunny was carrying Sherman now. 

Mr. Peabody led Bunny downstairs to Sherman’s room, noticing his lingering in the hallway that led to their bedrooms, looking at the photos of their adventures together. 

Upstairs was the public area, where guests were entertained, and was decorated as such. This was their private space, where what actually mattered was displayed. Mr. Peabody liked to have the touchstones of how far Sherman had grown where he could see them every day. 

The light from the hall gave enough illumination for Bunny to pick his way to Sherman’s bed without tripping on anything. 

Sherman’s room was certainly the most chaotic room in the penthouse, if not the entire skyscraper. Mr. Peabody attempted to get Sherman to keep it organised, which only worked to some extent. 

Cleanliness, much like coordination and high level motor skills, would hopefully come with age.

Sherman shifted, eyes opening a crack as he was set down, and Bunny silently backed away so Mr. Peabody could step forward and tuck Sherman into bed, something Mr. Peabody was silently grateful for, feeling slightly territorial over _his_ son. 

“Mr. Peabody?” Sherman whispered as Mr. Peabody tucked his son’s favourite stuffed dinosaur into his hands. 

“Yes, Sherman?” 

“I love you, Mr. Peabody.” Sherman said, as he had every night since he’d learned the words. 

Mr. Peabody felt his irritation faded away at the ritual. “I have a deep regard for you as well, Sherman.” He said, taking off Sherman’s glasses, folding them up and placing them on the stand for Sherman to find in the morning.

Sherman smiled peacefully, eyes drifting shut as Mr. Peabody ran a hand over Sherman's hair, then tugged the blankets up a little higher on Sherman’s shoulder, and stepped backwards, leaving the room. 

He paused, just before he shut the door, drinking in the sight of his son, a sense of contentedness welling up inside of him.

Then he closed the door, and turned to find his guest. Bunny was staring at the wall of photographs, an odd look on his face. 

“Something wrong?” Mr. Peabody inquired. 

“I thought he were yer pup.” Bunny said quietly, the tips of his finger pads touching the frame of the newsclipping that announced ‘Dog Adopts Boy’. 

“He is my _son_.” Mr. Peabody snapped, a bit of a defensive growl to his voice, the mellow feelings fading away. 

“Not questioning you’re his Father, but I thought ya were his _Sire_.” Bunny turned and looked at him, his face somehow grave and hard to read. “I was afraid ta ask what happened to his Dam.” 

“I… I...” The concept that he was Sherman’s biological father was preposterous. They were completely different species!

Bunny shook his head, and Mr. Peabody realised that he’d voiced those thoughts outloud. “Until Sherman took a shower and washed some of yer scent off, I thought ya were related. Then he just smelled of soap and young Pooka.”

He felt his heart do a funny little skip at the idea that they smelled close enough that someone had mistaken them for biological family. “Sherman’s _human_.” Mr. Peabody protested, trying to sound indignant. Embarrassingly, even to his own ears, he sounded more wistful than anything else. 

“Article says ya found him in box in an alley.” Bunny motioned to the newsclipping. “Crowded street?”

“I… Yes. Usually.” Mr. Peabody swallowed, realising that he was actually entertaining the idea. “It was raining, there wasn’t as much foot traffic that day.” 

“Ya were the only person to hear him.” Bunny ventured. 

“Yes.” Or at least he hoped so. The idea that other people had heard a baby’s cry and kept on walking was an uncomfortable one, even if it was one that ultimately lead to him finding his son. 

“I think it was cause ya were the only one who could.” Bunny said, motioning towards the door with a thoughtful look. “Kit asleep?”

“Uh… He should be.” Mr. Peabody nodded. Sherman usually fell asleep fairly quickly, and was a fairly heavy sleeper once he was. “Why?”

“I can check.” Bunny asked, tilting his head towards the bedroom. “Won’t harm the kit none, my oath on it.” 

“Check how?” Mr. Peabody drawled, suspicious. Weirdly, it was both reassuring and worrying. 

Bunny extended his pointer finger, nearly brushing Mr. Peabody’s nose with it, and he had the curious sensation of energy from it. Like standing close to an electrical current, without the possibility of electrocution. “Touch o’ chi. Nothing big, nothing permanent.” 

Mr. Peabody took a deep breath. “Fine.” His curiosity was raised, and if this was the only way to settle the argument for once and for all, he’d deal with this… magic. 

He opened the bedroom to find a stream of glowing golden sand fading away from Sherman’s head, disappearing out the window. Mr. Peabody stepped forward, a growl rising in the back of his throat, to be stopped by a hand in front of him. 

“Relax. It’s just Sandy.” Bunny whispered, motioning to Sherman’s head. Above him, the glowing sand flickered, revealing what looked like figures having a snowball fight. A closer look revealed them to be Mr. Peabody himself, along with Jack Frost and Bunny, all of them playing with Sherman. The image faded away, the glowing sand disappearing. 

“The Sandman.” Mr. Peabody breathed, remembering Bunny talking about him. Sanderson Mansnoozie, the Wishing Star who gave children good dreams. 

Bunny nodded, soundlessly walking over to Sherman’s bed, Sherman’s bright red hair sticking up out of the covers. Bunny glanced at Mr. Peabody, holding up one finger, then carefully placing it against Sherman’s shoulder. 

The effect was instantaneous. Sherman gave a sleepy stretch, kicking the blankets off of him, tail and wings waving in the air before settling down. The rust coloured wings looked somewhat awkward, pushing the back of his pajama top up, flesh coloured tail flopping over the waistband. Mr. Peabody found his attention stuck looking at Sherman’s toes, the same pads like his own, covered in cream and red fur. 

“Pooka.” Bunny said quietly, and Mr. Peabody wanted to kind of hate the smug tone except it was mixed with quite a bit of awe, echoing Mr. Peabody’s sentiment. 

Sherman gave a soft drowsy grumble, rolling over on his stomach so that he was facing them, wings and tail automatically adjusting. His hands appeared to be mostly human, the skin a little thicker looking, not hairy, and he had blunted claws instead of nails. His face was the same though, slightly smooshed from being pressed against the pillow, mouth open and drooling. 

Bunny lifted his finger away, Sherman’s additional limbs fading back into his body, leaving his son human appearing once more. 

In silent accord, Mr. Peabody pulled the blankets back over Sherman, then they backed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind them. His hands were shaking slightly, and he wasn’t sure if it was from joy, shock, or horror. He pulled out a handkerchief and polished his glasses, taking a moment to breathe and centre himself once more. 

Some sort of cat bird hybrid. A Griffon, perhaps? A Sphinx, with his human face?

“Pooka are instinctual shapeshifters.” Bunny said, once Mr. Peabody’s glasses were back on his face. Bunny flexed his hand, and he watched the fur shift from grey to the same white as Mr. Peabody’s, then back again. “We can use it to fight, but mostly use it ta blend in.” 

The laugh bubbling from the back of his throat was bitter. Blend in. 

“Y’said ya were found at a Dog Adoption Centre.” Bunny said gently. “So the form that you took on-”

Mr. Peabody rubbed his eyes, motioning them back to the living room. They might as well be comfortable for the conversation. “-Was that of a canine. And Sherman was found inside of a city, surrounded by humans.” And so he took on the appearance of a human. “But… _why_ where we placed there?” 

With humans living on so much of the earth’s mass, would it have not made more sense for him to ended up like Sherman had?

While he was fond of his shape and appearance, his life would have been so much less of a constant struggle if he appeared human instead of canine. 

Bunny made a low, unhappy sound. “Ya mentioned a time machine?” 

“Yes.” He didn’t know what that had to do with shapeshifting, however. The eggs scattered in their wake as they walked into the living room, Mr. Peabody climbing up into the armchair.

“With age, experience, and control, some older Pooka gain the ability ta travel in time.” Bunny said, then hesitated, looking like he didn’t know what to do now that there wasn’t a child in his arms. He sunk down onto the couch as if he were an old man, looking weary. “Prolly what you were doin’ instinctually, with this WABAC of yers. Hiding the two of ya with it.”

“We have not been ‘hiding’.” Mr. Peabody scoffed. Far from it.

“Ya can’t tell me ya age like a normal woofer.” Bunny scoffed back. “It’s taken ya time to build all this, ain’t it?” He said, motioning around the Penthouse. “Before ya found him? And from the pictures, it don’t look like ya aged a bit.” 

… He hadn’t. Something that worried him. 

“Sherman too.” Bunny said, reaching into the bandoleer on his back and pulling out a small ball of twine. He measured off about 12 inches, then bit it off with his teeth. “Say this is 7 years.” He said, setting it down on the table. 

“Alright-?” Mr. Peabody ventured. 

“But, if you’ve been going back and forth in time…” Bunny unrolled more string, placing it at the start of the first piece, then making zig-zag motions, leaving loops like figure eights with the original string in the middle. “You’re gonna do a lot of aging if yer a normal human.” He explained, biting off the second piece of string, and placing the ball in his bandoleer. 

He then straightened out the second piece of string, which was three times longer than the first.

They never seemed to age when they went back in time. Mr. Peabody had always assumed it to be aside effect of the WABAC’s programming, such as their ability to understand any language they encountered. 

Between Sherman being an infant and requiring a lot of attention, learning to be a first time Father, running Peabody Industries, and all the little things he did to maintain world peace, he didn’t remember a lot of that hectic few weeks he’d spent building and programming the WABAC. 

However, the safety protocols were as top notch as he could make them. 

“Pooka, we live a long time.” Bunny said, with a small smile. “Slow to grow, slow ta age. Ya don’t hafta worry about Sherman outlivin’ ya.” 

Mr. Peabody pressed his hand against his chest, letting out a breath of relief, his throat feeling too tight. That had been one of his greatest fears, that he would pass away while Sherman was still a child. 

He had made contingency plans, of course. But most of the people he would entrust to raise Sherman in the past. Leonardo, primarily. And that did put a bit of a damper on things. 

“That doesn’t explain what we are doing _here_ though.” He said. 

Bunny sighed, looking old again. The flock of eggs scooted closer to him, a few managing to get up on the couch, pressing against his legs, as if seeking or offering comfort. “The end of the Golden Age was a bad time. Pitch and his Shadow men were targeting children, and Pooka children were especially tasty to him. Rumour was that some of the Pooka were sending the cubs _forward_ , out of his grasp.” 

“Because the future had to be better than where they were.” Mr. Peabody mused, remembering Sherman’s logic that had saved them from a temporal paradox. 

Bunny scratched at the back of his neck again. “I never found any, but I’ve been asleep more than awake at this point.” He confessed. “Movin’ backwards easier than movin’ forwards though, unless there’s some sort of time event ta anchor around. With the time scale we’re talkin’, coupla decades in either direction would count as a near miss.” 

“You mean an event as a disruption to the space-time continuum-?” Mr. Peabody ventured. 

That earned him a startled look, which quickly shifted to suspicious. “Last September? That was ya?” 

“There was a _bit_ of a mishap at the Battle of Troy, and Sherman thought I was dead.” Mr. Peabody said, downplaying the entire event. “So he and a friend of his, Penny, came forward in time to where they knew to find me, in order to fix it. It cause a bit of a tear, which we were able to fix in short manner.” 

The disruption had lasted for less than ten minutes before they were able to fix it. But not before Ms. Grunion had nearly separated them, in a very _permanent_ fashion. Something they both still had the occasional nightmare from, a couple months later. 

Bad dogs were ‘put down’.

Mr. Peabody had always strived to provide a stable environment for his son to thrive in, and it had nearly been ripped away from both of them. Had it not been for the quick pardons of several past Presidents, Sherman would have been placed in Foster Care, and Mr. Peabody euthanized. 

In all honestly, he wasn’t sure which was the worse fate. 

“Huh. I must of just missed ya.” Bunny said, running the tips of his fingers over the eggs, who leaned into his touch. “Was at Troy just before they brought the Horse in. I warned them against Greeks baring gifts, but they insisted they knew better.” 

“I wonder how many times we missed each other.” Mr. Peabody mused. “We could go back and rectify this.” 

Bunny shook his head, tapping the top of his skull with a finger. “I don’t remember meetin’ ya before. Not a good idea ta try ta rewrite history like that.” 

“Point.” Mr. Peabody adjusted his glasses. Although the thought was tempting. 

“By the way, good on ya, dealin’ with the tear.” Bunny said approvingly. “I could feel it, but it was gone before I could track where it was.” 

Not that he required Bunny’s approval. But still, he felt strangely pleased at the praise, his tail wagging a few times. 

“We may need ta keep an eye out fer more Pooka.” Bunny mused. “This ain’t a bad era ta send pups to. ‘Side from the incident with the Nightmare Sand, Pitch has been growin’ weaker the past century, so it’s pretty safe. Technology’s catchin’ up ta the Golden Age, probably some with yer help. And humans really ain’t all that bad, as species go.” 

“They’re really not.” Mr. Peabody smiled. He liked humans in general. Some in particular. “Wait… _Technology_?” 

“Shapeshifter.” Bunny reminded him with a broad, sly grin. “Change to suit what needs doing. Ain’t always been this way. Inventor, Painter, Gardener, Martial Artist, Magician, Engineer, Soldier, Scholar, Sculptor, Chocolatier, Advisor to the Lunar Tsars, the list goes on."

Mr. Peabody's breath caught. He'd truly never met anyone like himself before, although Leonardo came close. It wasn't just that they were the same _species_ , they were the same kind of absurdly talented in a wide variety of fields and interests. 

"This here’s my retirement job." Bunny said, patting the eggs. "Got me paints, me plants, a planet full of adopted grandkids ta give gifts to once a year, and the occasional scrap to keep the kinks out. Not a bad gig for an old man.” 

"Adopted Grandkids-?" Mr. Peabody arched an eyebrow. An interesting way to put it. 

Bunny chuckled, then ran a hand down his face. "I gotta be honest.” He said, sounding like he hated himself for saying it, but proceeding anyway. “You and Sherman? I’m pleased as punch ta find ya, but it's like finding a child raising a toddler. I know ya aren’t, and you're doing a fantastic job with him, but the urge is there ta just grab ya both, take ya ta the Warren and keep ya safe." 

Bunny was millions of years old. When Jack Frost had said that Bunny considered him a child at 300 years, he hadn’t been exaggerating. The few decades between his and Sherman's age probably meant little more than days to his sense of time. "I appreciate your restraint." Mr. Peabody said dryly. 

Bunny gave a dry huff in return. 

"If I might indulge in a little honesty of my own." Mr. Peabody ventured quietly. "When I was a... a _pup_ , I would have loved nothing more than for that to have happened." 

That earned him a bittersweet curl at the corner of Bunny's mouth. "But not anymore."

"No." Mr. Peabody admitted. "I... Gave up that dream, I suppose. And Sherman's paying the price for it now. The only way I could find to use my intellect to form connections with humans was to eschew traditional forms of contact between humans and canines, which served as both a distraction, and ultimately demeaning towards me.”

There was nothing like attempting to hold a meeting, while someone cooed baby talk at him and attempted to rub his stomach or his ears. Or throw a ball. 

It was one thing when Sherman threw a ball for Mr. Peabody to chase, even if it did undermine Mr. Peabody's authority to some extent. They were family. It was entirely different thing when it was a complete stranger did it, or attempted to shove their hand under his jaw and ask if he wanted 'walkies', refusing to listen to him. He'd eventually learned to just walk away from such encounters. 

"-Which meant that I forewent most forms of physical contact." Mr. Peabody said, pushing his glasses up. "To the point that I am unaccustomed to using them now as displays of affection, save for those that I experienced growing up." 

Primarily pats on the head. 

Which made the schoolyard taunts of calling Sherman a 'Dog' cut so deeply for both of them. Because the only way Mr. Peabody knew how to properly display his affection was by essentially treating Sherman as a pet. He never turned down one of Sherman's requests for physical contact, be it hugs or holding Sherman's hand when his son was frightened, but he didn't know how to initiate it either. 

His son never complained about it, but if Sherman's actions tonight were any indication, he craved that proximity. 

Bunny had a look about him that he wished to pick Mr. Peabody up and snuggle him as he had when they'd first met, but was exerting some effort to restrain himself from doing so, something that Mr. Peabody greatly appreciated. 

"If you are amenable to the idea, I would not protest Sherman and I meeting with you again." Mr. Peabody offered, with a hopeful smile. "Perhaps eventually visiting this 'Warren' of yours." 

"I'd like that." Bunny said roughly, his voice thick. "Very much." 

Mr. Peabody nodded, his own throat tight with emotion. After all these years, he'd finally met someone like him. He had a name, a species. A history to learn, more than the brief summary that he'd gotten. 

And he and Sherman had another bond, one of mutual species, tying them together. He was uncertain how to approach this with Sherman, his son lacked coordination with just four limbs, adding more seemed like a potential recipe for disaster. 

Sherman attempting to fly with his wings. Oh, gracious. 

"Kits can be a handful." Bunny said, with a knowing tilt of his head. "If ya need help, some time away to just rant, or to watch over him while ya do something else, ya can contact me." 

"I... Would appreciate that." Mr. Peabody nodded. He'd had similar offers in the past, people attempting to use parenthood to form bonds, or to get a foot in the door with Peabody Industries, but this was the first time he'd honestly consider it. 

For one thing, he didn't have to worry about security clearances or the potential for corporate espionage. He doubted the Easter Bunny had any interest in the Dow Jones. 

There were times when he could use another adult to talk to, especially one who could potentially keep up. But not for a little while at least, not until he learned more about Bunny, learned to be comfortable around him, to trust him with Sherman. 

At least he knew the offer was sincere, out of nothing more than wanting to spend more time with them. 

He hesitated, tilting his head to the side. "How would I contact you?" He inquired. 

Bunny chuckled. "We'll have ta figure that out. North might have some ideas, he's good with mixin' magic with technology." 

Santa Claus was a Techno-Mage. Interesting. 

He did a quick inventory of his mental calendar. "Dinner?" He suggested. "Sherman and I are free next Tuesday evening. Do you have any dietary restrictions?" 

"I'll be here." Bunny promised, rising to his feet, a few eggs tumbling off the sofa as he did so. "I'm vegetarian, not vegan. Flour, eggs, and dairy are okay. Anything I can bring?" 

"What ever you feel like introducing us to." Mr. Peabody smiled, his tail wagging a few times. Perhaps even a dish or two not usually served on Earth. "Sherman will eat just about anything you put in front of him, provided it's not moving." Something that Mr. Peabody was profoundly grateful for. 

Bunny laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. No creepy-crawlies." He said with a twinkle in his eye that had Mr. Peabody thinking that Bunny might introduce Sherman to eating insects at some point in the future. 

The thought wasn't nearly as bad as he would have anticipated. 

Bunny hesitated in front of the balcony door. “I can do the same for ya, if you’d like. What I did ta Sherman, let ya see what are underneath.” 

“Thank you.” Mr. Peabody said, adjusting his glasses. “But no. I’m quite fond of the shape and size I am now.”

With his luck, he’d be nearly Bunny’s height, still a canine, and mistaken for a werewolf. There were disadvantages of being short, but he much preferred when people underestimated him for his size and gentile appearance. 

“Fair enough.” Bunny grinned, opening up the doors, then yelped as a blast of cold hit him the face. "Crikey! FROST!" He shouted, holding an arm up to shield his face as the eggs following him huddled behind his feet. Mr. Peabody stayed behind the glass, shivering slightly at the sudden drop in temperature. 

"Sorry!" Jack Frost missed landing on the balcony railing, the crooked end of the shepherd's staff catching it, Jack dangling below. Before they could offer assistance, Jack flipped up, landing on the balcony proper, a slightly apologetic grin on his face. "I asked the Wind to let me know when you might be heading home so I could catch a ride back with you." He said in a rush.

Bunny huffed and rolled his eyes. "That's fine, just keep the icing ta a minimum." He grumbled, stepping forward and tapping the balcony floor with his foot. A hole opened up, the eggs suddenly surging forward to jump into it. It was like a miniature stampede of brightly coloured orbs. 

"A pleasure to meet ya." Bunny said, turning and offering Mr. Peabody his hand. 

"Likewise." Mr. Peabody grinned, something warm blooming in his chest at it. He took Bunny's hand, giving it a firm shake. It was obvious that Bunny would have prefered something along the lines of a hug, but was respecting Mr. Peabody's comfort levels. "I'll see you soon." 

"What? Really?! That's great!" Jack bounced, a broad enthusiastic grin as they released each other's hands. "When?!" 

"I'll tell ya later." Bunny smirked. "-After we meet." 

Jack glared, lower lip sticking out in a minor sulk. " _Bunny_." He needled, obviously playing. 

Bunny chuckled, holding an arm out. "Come on, Frostbite. Let's get stop infringing on the kit's hospitality." 

"Not a kit." Mr. Peabody mildly protested. Bunny shot him a wink, letting him know he was teasing, and Mr. Peabody bit back a smile. 

"You guys are no fun." Jack complained, hopping off the railing and stepping into Bunny's personal space, giving him a quick half-armed hug, face against Bunny's throat. "Later, Peabody! Nice to meet you!"

"The pleasure was mine." Mr. Peabody said sincerely as Bunny seemed to toss Jack down the tunnel, much to Jack's laughing amusement. 

"Hooroo." Bunny gave him a small salute, then followed after. The tunnel sealed up behind him, leaving a purple daisy growing out of the balcony where the hole had been. 

At least he was courteous enough to do so outdoors, rather inside on the tile. Much easier to repair. 

Mr. Peabody stretched and yawned, his brain feeling full of possibilities. He shut the patio door and locked it, before setting the security system to the nighttime mode. 

An early bedtime would possibly not be amiss. 

And who knew? It wasn’t exactly scientific, but perhaps the Sandman might send him a good dreams tonight. 

-fin-


End file.
